


Enter the Nightbird (and Awaken the Beast)

by Nicor_Fyrweorm



Series: Transformers Rewrites [2]
Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Autobots Aren't Nice, Character Study, Episode: s02e10 Enter the Nightbird, Gen, Humans Aren't Nice, War Isn't Nice, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-05-18 19:07:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19340773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicor_Fyrweorm/pseuds/Nicor_Fyrweorm
Summary: All in all, the war on Earth has entered a calm routine: Decepticon attack, Autobot counterattack, and a brief period of rest. That doesn't mean both sides aren't trying to best the other, whether with increased security... or deadly new weapons of dubious origin. However, it's best to let sleeping dogs lie... especially if they are of the tiny, cuddly and innocent-looking variety.





	1. Kainara Sa

**Author's Note:**

> Migrated from FanFiction.Net.
> 
> The title of this chapter is _Kainara Sa:_ 'Tamed' in Japanese.

It isn't usual that almost the whole of the Autobots are working on the same project, least of all a scientific one, but… 

Well, all Autobots know how to weld, and weld is what is needed. 

No matter that some only agreed to it because of Prime's 'turbo-hound puppy optics'. 

Yes, yes, everyone will say Prime doesn't make 'turbo-hound puppy optics' or any other kind of puppy eyes… But that would be like saying Megatron came to Earth to pick flowers. 

… Well, now that's an idea… What if the Decepticons tried to make their own bio-fuel? Megatron would be picking flowers then. 

Jazz snickers at the thought and gets a suspicious look from Cliffjumper, who is kneeling close to the path the saboteur is taking to pick up and deliver the planks they're working on, piled high in his arms. 

"Do we need to know what you're thinking?" the Minibot asks, sitting on his heels, and Jazz whirls mid-step with a wide grin. 

"Just realized the Decepticons came to Earth to pick flowers and care for kittens," he answers cheerfully, finishing his spin without a hitch to continue on his way. 

Even without looking back, he knows Cliffjumper is staring at him as if he's blown quite some chips. 

But, hey, aren't fossil fuels made of organics, both plants and animals, which were buried and have undergone a series of conditions of heat and pressure for millennia? 

Alright, so it was _saber-toothed_ kittens instead of the tiny fluff balls humans call pets, but kittens nevertheless. 

Alarms go off and, if he had been any other mech, Jazz would have thrown his cargo to the air. 

Since he's not 'any other mech', though, the saboteur whirls around, ready to use the planks he's carrying as weapons if need be. 

But the siren is almost immediately shut off, to the Head of Spec Ops' confusion. 

"The Decepticons won't find it easy to slip past that," Prime tells Wheeljack, kneeling next to an active panel, and Jazz almost smacks himself. 

Detection panels. To install in the _Ark's_ entrances. To avoid infiltration by those pesky Cassettes. 

And, since they are Wheeljack's invention, _of course_ they have to be tested. 

And he, the Jazzmeister, saboteur extraordinaire _and_ Autobot Third in Command _and_ part of the mechs roped to help assemble the slagging things, jumped like a newbie. 

"Losing your touch?" 

"Of _course_ you had to see that," he mutters barely audibly, turning to face a kneeling Prowl, who has an offline welder in a servo and a perfectly assembled panel in the other, which he offers as soon as he has Jazz’s attention. "Another done? Jeez, Prowler, you were told to come here to keep you from overworking. And you've finished most of these yourself!" he exclaims, taking the new sensor plank and using it to gesture to those he's already carrying. "Can't you take a break?" 

"Believe it or not, this is me taking a break. And you tried to evade the question." 

"And obviously failed," he returns with a lopsided grin, turning around to go deliver his cargo— 

"Jazz." 

_No such luck._

"Are you _really_ expecting an answer?" 

"Obviously." 

With a grimace, the saboteur turns around and plops down in an undignified yet graceful cross-legged sitting pose. 

Despite having all he needs to get to work on the next panel, Prowl puts the welder aside and turns his whole attention to the Third in Command. 

"Maybe," Jazz mumbles after a bit, scowling without humor. "I mean, I guess I'm not, but… I don't know. It's like… we're stuck. The Cons try to get a new weapon or more energy, we go stop them, kick their skid plates, and they fly away to leave us to deal with the damage and come back here to wait until they try something else _again._ When did the war turn into this… this _cops and robbers_ game?" 

"When we onlined after the crash," the Praxian answers easily, though more serious than before. 

"Exactly! We've been doing _nothing_ since then! Yeah, sure, we're stopping the Cons, protecting the humans, and all that, but… we're still _losing._ Every victory on Earth is meaningless as Shockwave reactivates soldiers in stasis and starts mass production of drones and—they're kicking us off our own planet while we're stranded here doing what?" 

"You know that if we—" 

"Went back to Cybertron, Megatron would just drain Earth and they would have a real big advantage over us, yes, I know," he cuts with disdain, glaring at the ground, before his plating presses closer to the struts in worry. "Doesn't mean we're not _losing._ We were resisting, we had a plan to avoid this very situation… It was supposed to be the other way around, with us sending fuel back to Cybertron and the Cons being forced back, but it's not!" 

And Second and Third can only exchange looks of almost despair at that. 

Because they know it's the truth. 

If only they could locate another planet to get resources from, or focus on getting rid of the Decepticon High Command here on Earth instead of playing hero… 

But Prime would never allow that. 

He's attached to the humans, almost as tightly as to their own race. And while Prowl and Jazz really don't want anything happening to _certain_ individuals… 

This is war. Sacrifices must be made. 

But no, an all-out attack would be too risky. Being underwater gives the Decepticons the advantage of close quarters combat. And, while the Autobots are good at that and have numbers on their favor, there's only so many of them that can fit in the _Victory's_ corridors. 

Plus, at an order from Megatron, a new super-weapon, or strike force, could threaten a populated area. And Prime… 

Optimus would call the attack off the very instant a single human life was at risk. 

"I know what the situation is like, and maybe we could pull it off. But if we stay reactive instead of proactive… I feel like I'm stagnating here. This… unchanging pattern is… I have no challenges, no _changes._ I feel like I'm going—" 

"Prowl, Jazz." 

At their leader's voice, all conversation is over and, putting their tasks aside, both officers get to their pedes and to Prime's side to hear about their new mission. 

_I feel like I'm going back._

That's what Jazz was going to say. 

By the way Prowl's doorwings are held half a micron higher than usual, the saboteur knows the other is aware of the unvoiced words too.


	2. Osaeru

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Osaeru:_ 'Suppressed' in Japanese.

Standing next to one of the entrances, Prowl can't help but feel like the biggest and stupidest of decorations. 

That doesn't stop him from running the situation over and over through his battle computer, with a new variable added every time. 

He doesn't like what he gets. 

Doctor Fujiyama asked them to come to the presentation for fear that his invention, some kind of advanced robot, fell in Decepticon servos. 

To be sincere, that is a stupid assumption. 

Any kind of robot the humans could create will be nothing more than a toy to Cybertronian, like one of those plastic dolls are to the Earthlings. It would look alike, but nothing else. 

The Decepticons will get no benefit from such a theft… except for those scenarios when they do. 

Yes, the materials will be primitive, as will the design. But with some changes, more or less depending on the original, they would get a distraction, a weapon, or, at the very least, some new parts. 

Which is why Optimus placed his mechs in plain sight. 

If they're fortunate, their mere presence will convince the Decepticons the robot is not worth the trouble. 

However, if they _aren't_ after the robot… 

His quick look around goes unnoticed, and Prowl isn't really surprised. 

The room is full with some of the most brilliant minds on Earth, but, at the end of the day, they're still human. 

And, to a Decepticon, they may be far more interesting targets than the doll they were called to babysit. 

So, it is them who Prowl watches closely, because of the higher chance of them being targets. And because Jazz is on the stage, hidden out of sight behind the curtains while Optimus stands by the covered robot. 

It is a big robot, truth be told, and most likely inspired by the Cybertronian themselves, but the Praxian is confident that it's nothing more than that. 

So, he brings his attention back to the humans. 

And smiles in his processor as he listens to the chatter through the comm. 

::If it works, it probably needs a long extension cord.:: 

::I wonder if batteries are included?:: Ratchet asks, and he's answered by more than a few snorts and chuckles. 

::When they turn it on, it will probably blow the lights,:: Wheeljack adds, and there's outright laughter at that, because _of course_ Wheeljack would know about such a thing. 

Doctor Fujiyama stepping to the middle of the stage, where a microphone is waiting, makes the jokes stop. 

As sure as they all are about the robot's… primitive nature, they're all curious. 

"Ladies and gentlemen. First of all, allow me to welcome all of you and thank you for your assistance," the Japanese scientist starts with, his voice easily making the chatter among his peers go silent as all attention falls on him. "What you are about to see is state of the art robotics," he adds, gesturing to the covered robot, and that's all that is needed for the tarp to be pulled up— 

No one would notice, but Prowl stiffens, battle computer once more running at top speed as he assesses the robot they had all been mocking a moment before… 

And finds it _threatening._

As they expected, it is the size of an average Cybertronian, and obviously modeled after them, though keeping a more human look. Or so it seems, because the Tactician can't find any use for the specific shape of the chest plates other than resembling a female's bosom. 

However, what really catches his attention and sends his battle systems on standby is that it is _armed._

The hilt protruding over a shoulder plate obviously belongs to a sword. There are fork-like short weapons— _sai—_ on its forearms. One nunchaku is carelessly displayed in its grip. 

The final touch is that its yellow optics, dim in its offlined state, are the only visible part of the faceplate, a mask much like Optimus' hiding the lower face. 

And the humans are all oohing and aahing, impressed but not threatened in the least. 

"This is the first female ninja robot. I have named her… Nightbird," Fujiyama explains and, this time, Prowl's tensing is visible in how his doorwings twitch a bit higher, alert, wary, and _ready._

Ninja. A covert agent or mercenary in feudal Japan, the functions of whom included espionage, sabotage, infiltration and assassination, with open combat in certain situations. 

Better known to the Cybertronian as a Special Operations Agent. 

_Jazz._

_Primus, let him keep his cool._

The humans have created a weapon against the Cybertronian. 

_It is only logical that they would search for a way to defend themselves against the Decepticons._

Yet, even as he thinks it, Prowl doesn't believe it. 

That's when he finally notices what is going on around him. The humans, the scientists, are cheering. 

His battle programming goes from standby to full alert, though he keeps it hidden. 

Not that it matters much. With their attention elsewhere, none of the fleshlings can hear the sudden lack of noise from his systems, preserving the energy for when he decides to strike, nor the soft buzzing from his doorwings in a spark-coded warning that he hurries to silence. And neither do they notice the pale spots and lines in his optics from his targeting systems activating. 

All Prowl sees are enemies. 

He has to wonder if Prime knows they've been roped to act as bodyguards in a convention that aims to find ways to deactivate their race. 

Justified or not, Prowl would very much like to leave this instant and research all the participants here, their work and their current projects. And, depending on his findings, he wouldn't be against some… _accidents_ to their workplaces, with loss of all data in them included. 

And if someone dies… oh, what a _shame._

::Prowler, correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't ninja scarily efficient spark-extinguishers?:: Jazz sends through a private and thrice-encrypted comm line. 

::They were.:: 

::Tell me you have a plan, because right now I can only come up with dropping the ceiling on them all, and Prime is _not_ going to like that. At _all.::_

::I'm working on it,:: he answers, unable to say anything else because he doesn't really know either. 

Prowl knows what must be done, for all their sakes, but the ‘how’ will require a lot more finesse and discretion. 

It won't do to have Prime realizing his top officers are behind the deaths of— 

"Why build a ninja robot, Doctor? Isn't that rather dangerous?" one of the humans asks, easy to locate because he's standing in front of his seat, and the Tactician uses his words as an anchor to silence the most ruthless plans he's coming up with. 

It seems this is not a meeting to discuss ways of dealing with Cybertronian, but rather what they were first told about. A simple presentation of scientific advances. 

"Nightbird has been constructed to demonstrate to the world the limitless capabilities of technology. She will expand the horizons of robotic research to assist mankind, and not to harm him. I assure you, she's not meant for battle, or assassinations. And I have limited her powers accordingly," Doctor Fujiyama explains off-handedly, waving away his peers' worries. 

He's not fooling the Autobots. 

After all, haven't the humans' projects in robotics been centered on creating servant robots instead of weapons? 

If he's working on soldiers, it's because he's planning on _using_ them. 

And since he hasn't said against _whom…_

::Ratchet, I want that robot scanned ASAP.:: 

::On it.:: 

::Wheeljack, any data on its energy source?:: 

::Seems an electric battery. I'll contact Ratchet to get an in-depth scan to confirm it and work on neutralization.:: 

::Jazz, stay alert, but do not react unless fired on first.:: 

::Roger that. Tell me I can squish the doctor.:: 

::Later. Trailbreaker, Brawn, Mirage, Bluestreak, Ironhide, guard the entrances. I want you to be ready to block them in the event it's necessary to make an intervention.:: 

::A what? Why would you—?:: 

::Ironhide, we _wait_ before we _squish._ We need to be certain of what the best course of action will be before we take such drastic measures.:: 

::They're planning on scrapping us!:: 

::I'm _working_ on it.:: 

And all the while, the lines are blocked from Optimus, no one contacting him. 

Because they all know what the Prime will say, but they're _soldiers._

They see a threat and they neutralize it, regardless of it wearing a friendly or inoffensive visage. But the way they do it is what Prowl and Jazz are here for. 

They've been playing hero ever since they first got out of stasis, yet the humans are working on ways to turn against them. 

Protectors or not, any who threatens them will be dealt with. Even if Optimus doesn't approve. 

Prowl won't let them be played like fools just because they've been _nice._

Not ever again. 

All such thoughts are quickly wiped from his processor as soon as the sounds of shooting reach his audials. A moment later, Trailbreaker falls to the ground with a well-known red and black Cassette on his back, while an identical one colored blue and purple turns his arms into pile-drivers just inside the door. 

Prowl jerks as he tries to keep his balance through the quaking, taking his riffle from subspace— 

::Wait! We can't risk hurting the humans!:: 

For an instant, barely a nanoklik after receiving the order from his Prime, all the Tactician can do is fight against his battle computer to not end in stasis on the floor. 

_Is he **glitched?!**_

All of Prowl’s programming, all of his _logic,_ is screaming to get rid of the menace. A couple of well-placed shots from any of them would do it, before any humans get hurt. 

But Prime is telling them to _not_ shoot at the Decepticons, to not move _at all,_ because of some panicked _organics_ rushing all around the room, when the ceiling is _literally_ falling on them? 

Not only are the humans dying under the falling concrete and metal, but they're going to get themselves deactivated if they don't neutralize the threat! 

… But Prime _ordered._

Stiffening an enraged roar, Prowl directs his anger instead to the doors at his back, locked due to the quakes Rumble is creating, and rips them open to allow the panicked fleshlings to run away. 

_Go, squish yourselves somewhere where it is **not** my problem. _

Then, he turns around, aims— 

Plasma burns against his bumper, the impact throwing him against the wall doorwings first. This time, he _does_ curse out loud. 

Or, at least, he thinks he does. 

"The humans have evacuated. Autobots, attack!" 

_When we're back at the_ Ark, _Prime, I **swear—**_

Forcing his optics to reboot and focus, Prowl tries to get back to his pedes— 

And falls down again with a grimace and a spurt of static. 

It isn't _just_ plasma burning through metal and wires and joints. 

His own riffle is broken in two over his middle, the acid pellets it had been loaded with now eating at his very metal. 

Prowl can only whimper silently and dig his own clawed dactyls into joints to rip out the acid-covered plating, pulling it off before the corrosive can get to his inner workings. Though, it isn't doing much for his already damaged joints. 

And that's when the ceiling is lifted like a lid, and Thundercracker and Starscream swoop in to steal the ninja robot, forgotten on the stage until now, before the Decepticons get into the Seeker's cockpits and— 

The ceiling is _literally_ dropped on them. 

By the time they're all finally dug out, the Decepticons are long gone. 

"I'm sorry that we failed you and the university, Doctor Fujiyama." 

Far as he is, Prowl can still easily listen in on the conversation between Prime and the human while Ratchet tweaks his damaged joints back into a somewhat useful state. 

"It could not have been foreseen, Mister Prime." 

"Nevertheless, I vow that we will return the robot ninja to you as quick as possible." 

::Will we?:: Jazz asks through comm, though none of the officers gives any sign of their conversation on the outside. 

::Not if I have a say in the matter,:: he answers, checking his repairs by moving a bit after the Medic goes to see to Brawn and Ironhide. 

::Good.:: 

"I only beg that she will be returned unharmed. The technical components are irreplaceable and are needed for research," Fujiyama adds, and Prowl knows as soon as he spots the saboteur approaching Prime that they are both thinking the same. 

"Don't worry, Doctor Fujiyama. We'll bring the little lady back in perfect condition. I hope," the saboteur replies as cheerfully and reassuring as ever, carefully adding those last two words. 

"Oh, thank you, thank you! I trust that you will." 

::But we can't be held accountable for what the _Decepticons_ will do to his toy, can we?:: 

Instead of answering verbally, Prowl gives a tiny smirk along a flutter of his doorwings. And while the movement may be disregarded, the soft hum created with it is just loud enough for Jazz's sensors to detect and understand as an affirmative. 

They have a way of dealing with the robot now, which is good. 

The bad news is that Fujiyama managed to get out of the attack uninjured. 

But that's fine too. A car accident isn't hard to arrange.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, the Autobots turned out a lot darker than I thought... but with good reason. Now, to see what happens when Nightbird is finally activated...


	3. Shōkō

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Shōkō:_ 'Lull, stillness' in Japanese.

The base may be temporary at best, since the Autobots look closely for any kind of Decepticon activity on land to avoid this exact situation, but this doesn't mean it's just a hole in the ground. 

From the outside, no one would even think there could be a technologically advanced alien structure inside the rocky outcrop. Which is just what they want them to think. 

However, it isn't the safety of the base that has Starscream standing uncharacteristically serious, observing Bombshell's work. 

Soundwave is at the monitors, working on the control chip with the orders Megatron wants to implement in the robot. But the screens are large, even for Cybertronian standards, and thus they can show the Cassette Carrier's work alongside the original blueprints of the robot and the modified ones the Insecticon designed. 

It was mostly by luck that they intercepted Fujiyama's call to the Autobots, but that was more than enough to arouse Megatron's curiosity. 

Soundwave's research turned up some… _interesting_ findings. 

Doctor Fujiyama is an authority in robotics, ever since he began his career, and the mind behind some of the most interesting and useful advancements… before 1984. 

With the Cybertronians' awakening, the United States are now technologically superior with the Autobots' aid, even though Prime has extended his assistance to all countries the USA isn't outright at odds with. 

But, apparently, the Decepticons are too much of a danger to leave just to the Autobots. And thus, the Japanese government tasked Fujiyama with their new defense program. 

Giant robotic soldiers. Cybertronian-like, and equipped with the most advanced weaponry to be able to stand up to Autobots and Decepticons alike. 

To fight fire with fire. 

Megatron was positively _giddy_ when he found out about that. He immediately forwarded the blueprints to Bombshell so that the Insection could get to work on improving it, while the rest planned the attack on the conference to steal the prototype. 

They had wanted to get it _before_ the presentation began and the Autobots got the area secured, but they had received the information too late for that. 

However, the plan had worked without a hitch. 

And thus, now they find themselves with a 'female ninja robot' in their grasp. 

One that is being modified to be a _real_ menace. 

The problem, however, is how _little_ they need to do to accomplish _that._

The construction is excellent, the parts neatly aligned and functional. And while the energy circuits and power consumption could be better, exchanging some parts is more than enough to get it ready for what the Decepticons intend. 

The programming is also scarily effective. 

So effective, in fact, that Soundwave is simply working on the obedience protocols and ally-enemy recognition. 

Megatron, of course, loves it. This means they can strike now, when the Autobots are still reeling from their last encounter and dealing with repairs, instead of later, when they will be alert and ready. 

Starscream doesn't like it one bit. 

Yes, the robot will have its uses—just this once, he hopes—but that doesn't mean he has forgotten _why_ the ninja came to be. 

The humans are starting to become dangerous. And seeing how they're the most numerous species, this presents a problem. 

A big one, and not just for the Decepticons. 

He couldn't care less what happens to the Autobots, but… 

The Autobots are predictable. They've been fighting each other for millions of years, they _know_ what to expect and how to react—most of the time. 

In comparison, they could have just landed on the planet for how much they know the humans. 

If they decided to go over the Autobots, or even to _replace_ them with their armies of 'advanced robots', the result wouldn't be good. 

As soon as he's done with the modifications, Soundwave is to search for more of those new defense programs in other countries, so that the Decepticons may get hold of them before they can be put to use. 

It makes Starscream uneasy, not knowing whether _that_ is the right choice. 

It should, it would leave the humans without their weapons. But what if they lose one, just _one,_ of the modified robots back to them? 

They would be handing them even more powerful weapons than they took in the first place. 

He isn’t sure what's right anymore. 

On the one servo, taking this 'Nightbird' and turning it against them could be seen as a warning— _you're just giving us more weapons—_ and thus result in the ending, or halting, of the robot soldier programs. 

On the other, it could spur the humans into acting _faster,_ in fear and the innate urge to defend themselves— _the Cybertronian can turn our weapons against us, we must destroy them before they can do worse._

He doesn't know what to do. 

Starscream knows what he _wants_ to do, they have all data about this doctor Fujiyama and the ones that ordered the robot developed, after all. But attacking them would be a sign that the Decepticons are _afraid_ of their new weapons, and thus would be blatantly telling them that the humans are on the right track. 

_That_ is the last thing he wants. 

But… what else can he do? Plan some kind of accident, perhaps? Huh, that's… actually a good idea. Japan is prone to earthquakes, so if he got Rumble to collapse a bridge or something when Fujiyama is driving over it… But those things are _built_ with that in mind… Slag, what to do, what to do— 

Bombshell is closing the robot's chest compartment, putting everything back. 

He's done. 

Well, slag. So much thinking, and Starscream has no answer to their predicament yet. 

"I love working for you Megatron. Love it," the Insecticon chuckles, taking the chip Soundwave gives him after getting the robot in a sitting position. 

And, after the klik it takes to take off the cranium casing to install the chip and put the cover back, it's over. 

Nightbird is ready to serve Megatron. 

It takes but a moment to bring it online, yellow optics flashing to activation and, with Energon-freezing fluidity, it stands up soundlessly. 

The first thing that comes to Starscream’s processor is the Autobot's Head of Special Operations. 

And _that_ is one slagging scary and deadly mech. 

If the robot is half—even a _tenth—_ of what Jazz is, they're going to have a problem. 

Because the Decepticons have modified it, yes, but the humans are slagging efficient when it comes to adapting and incorporating what scraps of technology the Autobots hand them. 

It may not take them long, if they manage to keep working on the robot soldier projects, to get _this_ Nightbird on their own. 

So, as usual, Starscream does what he does best and hides his true emotions—his fear and worry, in this case—under arrogance and mockery. 

"It looks like some Earth play puppet," he lets out almost condescendingly as they watch the robot go through some attack stances, still quiet—though, thankfully, not soundless—and efficient-looking. 

Next he knows, there's a black fist almost into his faceplate, and he jerks back with a warning snarl of his turbines and his null-rays heating up. 

_That thing is **fast!**_

"She is _not_ meant to be your sparring partner, Starscream!" Megatron growls, a servo held up being enough to order the robot back into a neutral standing position, and, reluctantly, the Air Commander powers down his weapons and engines. "Looks like this puppet packs a punch… She will be the perfect adversary for the Autobots," the Decepticon leader adds, once more smirking dangerously as he looks over his new tool like a newspark does his first upgrades. 

Or, like the earthlings say, like a kid with a new toy. 

_This is bad. **Really** bad. _

Megatron isn't thinking straight anymore, too blinded with the possibilities the robot represents and what he may use it for, after getting the world energy chip from the Autobots. And _that_ was definitely _not_ part of the original plan. 

He even referred to it as 'she', like the humans did! 

_This won't end well. Ugh, Primus, **why** does everything have to be so difficult?! _

But, as the robot is sent to the _Ark_ to complete its orders—the _real_ orders, the ones that were first conceived with the original plan—Starscream stays quiet. 

The world energy chip will be useful, allowing them access to the resources needed to send to Shockwave. He can't, nor won't, oppose that. 

As soon as the robot is back, however… 

Starscream can feel Thundercracker’s and Skywarp's optics on his wings, feel the confusion—and even suspicion—through the Trine bond. He simply closes it and brings his attention back to the feed Laserbeak is retransmitting, flying safely far over the robot as it makes its way towards the crashed ship. 

If Megatron doesn't snap out of his deluded and over-excited trance by the time the robot gets the world energy chip, they will have _words._

* * *

"Prime, can I have a word with you?" 

Despite it being a question, no one is fooled that it isn't actually an order—or as much of an order as Prowl would ever give Optimus—but they leave them be. 

Serious, the Prime simply nods before they walk out of the Repair Bay and into a deserted meeting room in the next corridor. 

The Praxian isn't yet repaired but, with the tweaking back at the conference, he can wait until Ratchet is done with Brawn’s and Ironhide's damage. So, despite missing most of the armor on his front, with some weaker and almost plastic-like plates replacing it to avoid getting dirt into his internals, he stands tall in front of his leader. 

And unbending. 

After half a klik staring into his Prowl's stony faceplate and piercing optics, the Prime fidgets. 

It's almost unnoticeable, but with his doorwings tracking the larger mech, it’s easy for him to spot it. 

That, and the discomfort and uneasiness radiating from his leader. 

Optimus was once a dock worker, almost at the bottom of Cybertron's society, but he was content and accepting of his role. 

Turning him into a _Prime?_ That turned his whole existence upside down. 

He's not only young, in comparison to the rest of his officers, but also too slagging optimistic. And so, this won't be the first—and likely not the last, either—time he gets a lecture from one of his higher ranking mechs. 

Prowl gets no satisfaction from this, more like _frustration._

"Do you know how many humans died?" 

Optimus literally flinches back. 

And _that_ would be one of the reasons most Autobots call their Second cold and emotionless. 

But he knows, as do the rest of officers, that, sometimes, the only way to get the Prime to _listen_ is to be blunt. Even if that means striking where it hurts Optimus the most. 

"I—" 

"Blaster just got the report from the cleaning crew. Allow me to forward it to you," Prowl cuts and, an instant later, the Prime flinches again with a pained spike of his field. "Had we been allowed to neutralize Frenzy and Rumble as soon they revealed themselves, that number could have been reduced by 53.8%," he continues, ignoring Optimus' soft whimper for his leader's sake. "And that, in turn, would have meant less damage to the rest of us, increasing the probability of victory to 87.9%. At the very least, we could have avoided the loss of the Nightbird by damaging one, or both, of the Seekers, thus forcing the Decepticons to retreat without the robot." 

And Prowl goes silent after that, letting the Prime process the information. 

A moment later, he watches him hunch into himself and start to fidget, before he lets his arms and shoulder plates fall limply in defeat with a hydraulic hiss as a sigh. 

"I thought the firefight if we engaged the Decepticons would have endangered the humans," Optimus finally whispers, accepting his mistake. 

Acknowledging his leader's apology, Prowl relaxes his doorwings and dampens their sensors, so the Prime doesn't feel the pressure of being the focus of _all_ his attention anymore. 

"They would have been safer. Mirage cloaked himself as soon as the attack began, and Bluestreak could have disabled them after a moment to get his riffle and position himself. If, of course, the rest of us hadn’t taken them out by then," he explains calmly, the coldness of his voice no longer there. "You know there's always the chance of damage to humans when fighting and, in such a tightly packed room with the situation as it was, it was unavoidable. I am your Tactician. You should have let me do my job." 

Properly chastised, as evidenced by his optics not looking up from his pedes and his still slumped stance, Optimus nods. 

"I… will try." 

And Prowl has to smile at that. Exasperatedly, of course. They all know Prime is too caring for his own good. 

But, at least, he acknowledges the situation, realizes his mistakes, and vows to try not to repeat them. 

Knowing how he is, that's all the Praxian could ask for. 

"Thank you," Prowl answers, voice soft and sincere. 

And he _does_ mean it. 

Optimus is a great leader, lacking all the arrogance and preconceived notions of superiority and 'soldiers are numbers' that the previous Primes did due to his humble origins. As thus, he fights _for_ his mechs instead of using them as pieces in a Quattra game. He listens to his officers too, consults with them, organizes meetings… And while he may not be able to deal with sacrifices for the greater good, he still acknowledges that, sometimes, there's no other way. So, Prowl has permission to organize such events… though not as many as he actually does, he's sure. 

But, since Prime always asks not to be told about that unless absolutely necessary—knowing it needs to happen isn't the same as being alright with it, after all—the Tactician sees no problem in preserving some of their leader's 'innocence' by keeping him in the dark. 

And neither do the rest of officers. 

It's a hard job, balancing Optimus' righteousness and love of life with the cruelness and coldness of war, but Prowl manages. 

Jazz helps a lot with that, too. 

Prime finally looks up, shoulder plates still slumped but this time in a relaxed state he doesn't allow himself all that often. The soothing slightly darker shade of blue in his optics tells Prowl that he's smiling. 

"Any ideas about how to get the Nightbird back?" 

"I'm working on it." 

Which translates into _Blaster's doing some research on Fujiyama and the other scientists so that I know how much damage we need to inflict when we get that robot back._

It's unfortunate Optimus isn't versed in 'Prowl-language'. 

As thus, his leader just nods, straightens, and walks away. 

Knowing his turn at the Repair Bay hasn't arrived yet, since Ratchet would have contacted him otherwise, the Praxian goes to the laboratory to see how Wheeljack and Perceptor are doing with the sensors that are supposed to go along the metal detectors. 

It's ‘fine and dandy’, as the humans would say, to have a ring of detectors in the entrance and in certain key areas, but the Autobots are also made of metal. 

Which is why there are supposed to be sensors to go along with the detectors, so that their signatures are recognized and, this way, they can avoid triggering the alarm every time they come in and out of the _Ark._

So far, however, there has been no progress with them. Because of that, only a couple of the less transited corridors are carpeted with the detectors to test them when connected to Teletraan, before they hook the whole ring and overload their computer. 

_That_ is the last thing they want, especially in the situation they're in now. 

And, not that he would say it out loud, the sensors also serve the purpose of alerting him when Sideswipe finally decides to go to that secret stash Prowl isn't supposed to know about to retrieve some prank material for his next operation. 

Let no one say the Doorwinger isn't practical.


	4. Futten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Futten:_ 'Boiling point' in Japanese.

The last of the panels is in place and the net is connected, so Jazz finally links it to the rest of the energy network— 

And the whole _Ark_ goes dark. 

"What the—What did you do?" Cliffjumper asks, and, after a reboot and change in the settings of his visor, it's easy for the saboteur to see him standing up from where he was crouched. 

"Guess we overloaded the system with those last detection panels," he answers with a grimace, ignoring the Minibot's grumbling as he opens a comm to the bridge, where the Communications Officer is monitoring the drain of the sensors on Teletraan as per Wheeljack’s and Perceptor's instructions. "Hey, Blaster, was that us? Should we take a couple of panels off the grid?" 

But there's no answer. 

Meaning, either Teletraan I exploded or zapped the Cassette Carrier into stasis due to installing those extra panels… or this hasn't been the sensors' fault. 

Seeing how the first option is plainly ridiculous, that just leaves the second. 

"We've got an intruder," Jazz hisses before rushing away, Cliffjumper following as fast as his shorter legs allow him. 

They almost slam into Prime and Bluestreak when they round a corner, but easily get back to business, moving towards the bridge— 

::Jazz, there's an intruder in the eastern—Oomph!:: 

Changing direction mid-step, the Head of Spec Ops quickly tells the others about the message as they run to Mirage's patrol route for the day— 

And see a dark silhouette quickly run away from the scuffed and hunched down noble. 

"Mirage, what happened?" Prime asks as Cliffjumper activates the alarm—thank Primus they thought about putting it on a different energy grid. 

Meanwhile, Jazz and Bluestreak turn on their lights to see just _who_ has decided to get into their ship, because that shadow is too big to be a Cassette. 

"It's the ninja!" the Minibot exclaims as soon as light bathes the corridor, the robot turning around when the door at the end doesn't open to spear them with bright yellow optics. 

_Well, slag. And here we thought we'd have some time before Megatron decided to play his—_

They all jerk down as the intruder takes some circular razors from a compartment in its waist and throws them at the Autobots. 

As soon as he hears the clinging of rebounded metal, though, Jazz feels both relieved and horrified. 

They needn't have ducked, because the blades are made with Earth metals, and there's no way those could have pierced their Cybertonium plating. 

Which means those are good news, because the Decepticons have most likely foregone equipping the robot with truly damaging weapons, by Cybertronian standards… and bad, because it means the ninja _already had them._

_The humans **did** build it to be a weapon, and a functional one at that. _

_Prowl's going to kill them all._

And Jazz is going to help, _gladly._

But, right now, they need to stop the ninja. 

There will be time to play _the Decepticons destroyed this and that_ later. 

"Don't harm her!" Optimus orders as they straighten, no more weapons on the ninja's servos— 

But a strange big lantern instead, and it's pointed at them. 

"What the—" 

It flashes, and the only thing they can do is turn away from the blinding light as the sound of metal ripping fills their audials. 

When it's over, the door is open and the control pad is hanging off some sparking wires. 

The ninja is nowhere to be seen. 

They separate to scour the _Ark_ while Optimus goes back to check on Blaster and send him to Ratchet, if needed, but there's no use in that. 

The robot has beaten them in their own turf. 

Jazz is _extremely_ pissed off, but Prowl's reassurances that he'll have the matter of the human scientists figured out by the time they get the Nightbird back helps him keep a straight faceplate when he goes out to join the rest of the search party, guided by Hound. 

"There she is!" the scout exclaims when they finally catch up to the ninja. 

If it wasn't because he knows Hound is respectful like that, the saboteur would have grimaced at his addressing the robot as if it was alive. 

And, talking about the ninja, its pace seems to have slowed considerably as it climbed a low plateau. 

"A simple stun ray should take care of her," Optimus muses out loud as he modifies the setting of his riffle and shoots. 

The energy bullet slams into the robot's back, sending it down, and the Autobots quickly go up the plateau to retrieve it. 

"Now, we can take her back to Doctor Fujiyama, where she belongs." 

Jazz has to hide a smirk at those words, because Prime will most definitely not like the idea of the state they are planning on returning the humans' toy in. 

Bluestreak is the first to get to the ninja's side – and as soon as he makes to pick it up, it turns with optics alight and punches him hard enough to leave the Praxian laying on his back with a dizzy look on his faceplate. Nightbird throws some more of the circular blades at the rest to keep them back, but the Autobots simply cover their faceplates, and the delicate optics, with their forearms while the slabs of metal bounce harmlessly off them. 

Lucky thing Sunstreaker isn't here, though. While they do no damage, their color nanites aren't faring all that well, leaving scratches all over their frames. 

An instant later, and with Cliffjumper's annoyed growl, weapons are drawn, pointing to the enemy standing so close to one of their own— 

"No! We promised not to harm her," Prime orders, and Jazz feels like screaming at his leader when the robot pulls out an energy sword— "Nightbird, we've come to help. Don't force us to fight you!" Prime pleads, as if that _thing_ really had a processor to think, as he steps towards the robot. 

Fortunately, whatever threat assessment systems the ninja has label Optimus a greater danger than the slightly stunned and scared Bluestreak still lying at its feet, looking up at the glowing sword with dread. So, it jumps over the Praxian, swings its weapon down— 

The surprise and the hit make Optimus let go of his riffle but, other than a gray-colored dent marking the impact, his forearm is intact. 

The sword is _another_ human weapon. 

_What the Pit were those insects **thinking?!**_

Another swing, using the mech's surprise, and Prime falls on his back with a dent on his mask. 

And Bluestreak, who had rolled out of the way as soon as he had the chance, takes out his own riffle and shoots. 

Jazz can't stop the grimace when the only thing to get damaged is the sword, which flies out of the robot's grasp while switching off. But, after all, Prime _ordered_ the robot undamaged. 

Taking their chance, the Autobots rush to the ninja— 

Who, unarmed, takes Optimus' fallen riffle and starts to run while shooting blindly at its pursuers. 

Set to stun as it is, the weapon is still dangerous. And, after all the years of war, all mechs jump out of shooting range before he can think to do otherwise. 

When the firing stops, the robot is nowhere in sight. 

Seething in silence, and careful to keep his faceplate blank, Jazz goes to help Optimus back to his pedes while Hound, Brawn, Mirage, and Bluestreak look around for clues as to the ninja's whereabouts. 

"No sign of it, Prime," the noble reports after a moment, though he's still looking around in case that changes. 

"Well, it left its sword behind," Cliffjumper adds, approaching the officers to hand the weapon to Prime. "Why do you think it would be attacking us?" 

"I suspect Megatron could answer that question." 

After exchanging a look with Mirage when the blue and white mech joins them, and getting a small shake of his helm to let him know they found no trace of the robot, Jazz decides to look around too. 

They all knew the Decepticons would make a move, especially after they got the Nightbird. But it just came into the _Ark,_ turned off the lights—but not the special generator feeding from the volcano to power their defenses, because the alarm still worked—and ran away. 

It means they're missing something, that the robot must have had some other objective that, one can only hope, it didn't get to accomplish before it was found out. But they don't know what _that_ is. 

"It seems Nightbird took the world energy chip," Optimus suddenly says, though the servo pressed against the side of his helm tells them he's just been told through comm. "Finding her now is more important than ever. Hound, can you track her?" 

The scout, who had until that moment been looking around, just gives them a nod before resuming his search for a trail. So, Jazz uses the chance to get back to their leader's side. 

Because Prime is sticking way too much to that 'no harm will befall the Nightbird' thing, and they _really_ can't afford it now. 

"Optimus?" he calls, and blue optics meet his visor as soon as he speaks, even if the voice is soft. "I’ll take care of the ninja when we catch up." 

"No." 

And the saboteur recoils with a startled look, because that has been the firmest order he's heard all day. 

"Wha—" 

"Jazz, I know what you mean, and I know the situation is dire. But we promised not to harm Nightbird." 

_We promised not to—_

"Whoa, wait a nanoklik, Prime. You think I'm going to _deactivate_ it?" he asks, and while Optimus gives him a reproaching look for the way he addresses the robot, Jazz ignores it in favor of trying to keep his indignation under control. "I know what we promised, _I_ was the one to say it to Doctor Fujiyama!" 

"Enough, Jazz. I know what you said, but I also know how you work. Unless you have some way to get Nightbird without damage—" 

"Of course I can!" he exclaims, uncaring about the looks they're receiving from the other Autobots, feeling incensed at the veiled insult to his abilities. "It's a slagging _robot,_ Prime! I've dealt with a lot worse and captured mechs thrice as dangerous before!" 

"But not without damage—" 

"They were _mechs!_ Not processor-less machines! Of course they fought, and of course I had to disable them, but there are far simpler ways of dealing with a _drone!_ One swift cut of the neck cables and—" 

" _No!"_ Prime exclaims, an arm being thrown to the side in a cutting motion, and Jazz has to take a step back to put some distance between them and trick his own threat assessment into thinking his leader isn't a danger and thus there's no need for immediate deactivation. "No harm will befall Nightbird. If the only thing you can suggest is _cutting her helm off—"_

"It's a _robot,_ it won't harm it!" 

"—then I will have no other solution than send you back to the _Ark!"_

"What?!" the rest of Autobots exclaim, breaking the non-existent illusion of privacy as they all turn to openly gawk at their commanding officers. 

"Prime, it has no spark, no processor that needs a constant energy flow," the saboteur tries again, this time in a softer and almost pleading tone, forcing his frame to relax. "And I wasn't planning on cutting the helm off, just the wiring. This way, we immobilize it without damaging the frame. Ratchet's going to have to dismantle it anyway to check whatever the Decepticons did, he'll be able to fix it in a jiffy!" he explains, though his voice rises despite his best efforts when Optimus' unyielding look doesn't vanish. "You know I'm your best mech, you _know_ that I can do that before it has any chance to run away or annoy us with its toys again!" 

"Yes, Jazz. I _know_ just what you are _capable_ of." 

And the Head of Special Operations takes another step back with a gasp and a pale visor, even more surprised than if Prime had outright slapped him. 

He _can't_ be implying… 

"You will stay back while we deal with the Nightbird," the Prime orders, and, without another word, another _thought,_ Optimus turns away to fix his intense glare on the scout. "Hound, do you have the trail yet?" 

"I—Yes, Prime." 

"Then, Autobots, let's roll!" 

And Jazz stays still for a moment, simply watching the others descend after Hound until they're in a flat enough area to transform safely. 

A nanoklik later, the saboteur deactivates his voice box and lets out a soundless enraged roar, servos curling into fists as his whole frame trembles harshly. 

_How dare he?! How dare he put me aside, how dare he refuse to use his best mech, how dare he endanger us all for a stupid human that is working to **deactivate** us?! **How dare he?!**_

He whirls around with another silent snarl, punching through a nearby rock and welcoming the tingling on his fist. 

_How dare he think me just a Senatorial tool?!_

Midway through another punch, the saboteur stops, fans whirring madly and frame quivering in rage. 

A Senatorial tool. 

That's all he was, before the War and the Autobots. 

And, apparently, that's all he is to Optimus Prime. 

_Freedom is the right of all sentient beings._

Instead of finishing the punch, he whirls around to kick the rock, a threatening snarl on his faceplate as he watches it crumble. 

_But, apparently, non-sentient beings take priority to his own trustworthy and **loyal** mechs. _

::Prowl, I'm going to deactivate Prime.:: 

He's still trembling, fans working frantically, but his expression is closed, emotionless. 

The line crackles, letting him know the other is there and listening, but no answer comes in a long while. 

::What did he do?:: the Praxian finally asks, and the annoyance in his voice is easy to pick up. 

::He said I'm not able to bring the robot in with minimal—and clearly inconsequential—damage,:: he spits, rage making his fists shake despite his frame being under control again. 

::And?:: 

Prowl was always too bright and perceptive for his own good. 

Jazz can feel a humorless and twisted smile that would be better called a sneer twist his faceplate. 

::He implied I'm good for nothing other than stealing and deactivating.:: 

And the foul curse that explodes from the other side of the line makes the saboteur flinch away, as if the other mech was right in front of him instead of at the _Ark._

::Alright, alright. Jazz, stay with him, help get the robot back, and _try_ not to damage it,:: Prowl tells the saboteur, who opens his mouth to answer even though his voice box is still offline, but gets beaten to it as if the Tactician had known what he was about to do. ::I said _try,_ not _do._ If you judge the situation deserving, _act._ I'll deal with Optimus.:: 

Optimus, not Prime. 

Prowl is _angry._

::What do I tell him?:: 

::The truth. That you will try not to damage the robot. Now go, it's obvious someone needs to keep an optic on… _Prime.::_

That sounded forced. Jazz doesn't need to be a genius to know there was supposed to be a curse in there. 

So, with a nod, despite Prowl being unable to see, the saboteur closes the line and, feeling calmer, hurries after the cloud of dust that marks his fellow Autobots' position. 

Prowl's right. Someone needs to keep an optic on their leader if they're going to win this war one orn. 

Or, at the very least, so that they don't get deactivated by a glorified windup toy. 

And Jazz has more than a little experience dealing with that kind of thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that... was a surprise. I sincerely though that scene wouldn't turn out to be long enough to get a chapter all in its own. That means the Decepticon part that was supposed to be the other half of this chapter is moved to the next one.
> 
> And I got Jazz _and_ Prowl angry. Optimus, you had _fixed_ things last chapter, what are you doing _now?!_


	5. Bakuhatsu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Bakuhatsu:_ 'Explosion' in Japanese.

Both Megatron and Bombshell are more than thrilled at the short spectacle they've just witnessed thanks to Laserbeak's surveillance. Even though they lacked the audio due to the distance between the fighters and the Cassette, it's obvious Prime was trying to 'play nice' with the robot. 

On the one servo, that's good. But, on the other, it's bad too. 

Good, because it looks like the Decepticons will get their servos on the stolen world energy chip. 

Bad, because their leader seems to be growing more and more attached to the human-made robot, and thus is less likely to dispose of it anytime soon. 

That won't do. At all. 

"Bah, it'll burn out fast, after the way Bombshell overtook its circuits," Starscream spits derisively, effectively riling the Insecticon up. 

He can only hope he's right, not due to lack of respect for Bombshell's work, but because keeping that _thing…_ Although, perhaps, and that's a really small chance, if they were to keep their puppet and turn it into an effective enough menace, the humans would be cowed enough to drop any and all of their future robot soldier programs. 

Maybe. 

Megatron's voice cutting through the Insecticon's angry tirade makes the Air Commander focus once more on the present. And Starscream finds himself hoping their leader is right, that they'll get that chip before—if—the drone does burn out. 

But there's a tiny detail Megatron seems to have overlooked. And, as his loyal and helpful Second in Command, how could Starscream let it slip? 

" _If_ it returns, you mean," he points out, because Prime _and_ some of his Special Operations mechs, including the Third in Command, are after it. "It's not so good—" 

_—when compared to a real Special Operations Agent._

That's what he was going to say, but Megatron's fist almost against his faceplate forces the Air Commander into silence as his leader glares down at him. 

"She's good enough to replace you whenever I choose," Megatron snarls, soon turning back to the screen, back bared carelessly to his 'treacherous' Second. 

Starscream can't do more than gape. 

_Replace… me?_

With a snarl of his own, the Air Commander purposefully rests his servos on his pelvic plating to keep them from curling around Megatron's neck cables. 

_He's not thinking straight. I can hit him on the helm until he gets some sense back later, once the world energy chip is either on our servos or lost along that drone._

_Or I could just shoot him and take control of the Decepticons now. It would definitely save us some trouble._

_Laserbeak could just swoop in to get the chip and leave the robot to distract the Autobots. Or I could send Skywarp to teleport them back to the_ Victory _and have the drone dismantled for spare parts._

_Yes, that could actually work…_

Lost in his musings, Starscream is once more jarred back to the present by Megatron's voice. This time, their leader is laughing as they watch the robot keep the Autobots, who seem to be missing the Head of Special Operations, at bay by disarming them with its throwing stars and their own hesitance to harm it. 

Which, the Air Commander realizes, is the only reason the drone has been so successful until now. The moment they decide to shed their 'kid gloves', the ninja is done for… and the world energy chip will be lost to the Decepticons, and far more heavily guarded should they try again. 

He's about to suggest having Laserbeak retrieve the precious cargo—or send Skywarp to teleport the robot out of the melee—when Megatron opens his mouth again. 

"You're _definitely_ on my replacement list, Starscream. She's everything I've always wanted." 

He's not joking. He's _radiating_ victorious glee and accomplishment. 

_Alright, that's **it.**_

"Replace me? Never!" Starscream shouts, jumping on Megatron to deliver a strong enough punch to throw the larger and heavier mech to the ground. 

Before Megatron can recover, he has one null-ray aimed at his helm, the snarl still on the Air Commander’s faceplate daring him to strike back. 

To be sincere, that's exactly what he's aiming for. 

When Megatron gets too crazy, the best way to bring him down from space is to get him to burn enough energy for him to think clearly again. 

Though Starscream isn't over simply shooting him into stasis so he can deal with this whole disaster with the robot in peace. Megatron's more than a little _compromised_ this time, if he can't see the Autobots holding back is the only reason the drone has got as far as it has. 

"Skywarp, Thundercracker, grab him!" 

_Wait, what?_

Before he can decipher that Megatron _won't_ be fighting back, Starscream is pulled away from their leader, still on the floor, by his Trine mates. 

Megatron, the Slagmaker and Prime-slayer, _refused_ to beat his treacherous Second back in place? Or… could it be that he felt actually threatened by the Air Commander? 

_… No, can't be. Right? … But… since when does Megatron accept—least of all **request—** anyone's help when dealing with me? _

"Soundwave, Bombshell. Activate the cage," their leader growls, sitting up, and, silently compliant, the Cassette Carrier turns to the controls and does something and— 

An iridescent beam shoots towards them, and Thundercracker and Skywarp move away just in time to avoid the energy bubble coalescing around the Air Commander. 

Trapped. _Trapped. **Trapped.**_

Like that has ever stopped _Starscream_ before. 

"You can't keep me in here, Megatron!" he shouts, snarling once more, as he moves a bit inside this 'cage'. 

He can feel all his sensors tingle from the energy all around, but there doesn't seem to be anything really dangerous about it. So, he decides to deal with it the way he usually does this kind of things: Shoot it until the energy overload burns the generator and shuts it down. 

Unfortunately, the instant his null-ray hits the bubble's surface, Starscream finds his frame racked by a wave of burning energy coming from all around, a pained cry escaping before he can process things. 

The energy isn't being sent back to the generator. It circles in the bubble's field and is returned to the source, with _painful_ retribution. 

"I don't see why not," Megatron answers after he goes silent, once more back on his pedes and smirking triumphantly, pointing at the trapped Seeker. "That cage was something I rigged up for the Autobots, but I'd like you to have it. Think of it as a… a _farewell_ gift," he adds, turning his back to his now harmless Second to check on the screens, and Starscream's snarl darkens with promises of _agony._ "Now, what did I miss…" 

A click, and the screen with the stats of the cage showing all green changes back to Laserbeak's feed. 

Just in time to see the Autobot Head of Special Operations drive up to the robot, communications dishes protruding from the sides of the back of the car, while the drone falls to its knees. Before it can recover, the green scout has an electromesh net thrown over it to tangle and completely immobilize the ninja like Ravage has found himself in way too many times, to the Cassette's annoyance. 

It takes them but a couple of nanokliks to realize that, while Ravage isn't strong enough to break free, it seems the mesh actually interferes with the robot's motor controls, because it's twitching jerkily and uncoordinatedly in vain efforts to get it off. 

Trapped. The robot lost, the energy chip lost, and all because Megatron was too busy fawning over a toy—no matter how well built, a toy is still a toy—to be blinded to the fact the Autobots were pulling their punches. 

"No! They finally got her!" their leader exclaims, and Starscream snarls silently at his back, engines growling softly in brewing anger at his skewed priorities. "We must rescue her _and_ retrieve the world energy chip at once," he snarls, making it clear that his priorities are, apparently, not so skewed, because at least he still remembers about the chip. "Decepticons, prepare for battle!" 

And that's all the hint they need for Strscream’s Trinemates and Bombshell to transform and Soundwave to step away from his permanent position at the computers, both him and Megatron changing to their smaller alt modes so that the Seekers can transport them. 

The roar of engines takes longer to vanish than the Fliers themselves, which means it takes Starscream a moment to hear his enraged shrieks. 

"—rip you to spare parts, Megatron! I'm going to shove that fusion cannon right through your bucket-shaped empty helm!" 

A beep cuts his tirade and, startled at the sound, the Air Commander whirls around to face the screen—and feels his spark stop pulsing. 

Because the tiny new window that has popped open under the visual feed Laserbeak is still retransmitting is a countdown. 

It… Megatron's not planning on actually blowing up the base with him still inside, is he? 

But that's when he notices the graphics _behind_ the feed, the ones belonging to the cage's parameters, and he finally realizes what is going on. 

With a strangled sound between a huff and a chuckle mixed with a relieved sigh, Starscream relaxes minutely. 

"That Soundwave. Always getting me in his debt." 

* * *

"Well done, Autobots. Nightbird is contained and unharmed," Prime praises once they're all back on their pedes and Jazz has returned to root mode. 

It didn't take the saboteur long to catch up, but, apparently, it took the others even less to find the robot and… Well, Jazz had been about ready to give it all up and try to hide in the deepest and darkest hole he could find out of embarrassment at his fellow Autobots' so-called battle skills. 

However, the short ride and the knowledge that Prowl was backing him up had given him enough calm to actually think things through. And thus, he had found a possible way to end it all once and for all without disobeying Prime. 

That his sonics had rattled the robot enough to actually subdue it instead of just distract it had been a bonus, and its reaction to the electromesh Hound always kept on him in case Ravage popped out of nowhere was even better. 

All in all, a perfect solution. 

This, he supposes, is why Optimus is standing by his side, a servo on his shoulder plate in reflection of the same pride in his field. 

However, when Jazz looks up at him it is with the blankest of expressions. 

A couple of nanokliks later, Prime takes his servo off the saboteur, hesitation replacing his previous emotions. 

"Well, I must apologize. You were right, we could take the Nightbird without damaging it," Jazz finally says, turning to look at the writhing robot, and he can feel the Optimus relax. 

"I am glad to hear—" 

"However," he cuts, voice icy, as he turns to look up at his leader with a menacingly deep blue visor that makes Optimus tense warily. "I am _not_ forgiving and forgetting, Prime. Not this once." 

"What—" 

"I am _no one's_ tool," he hisses, aware of the rest of their forces busy tying the drone up in the net, and thus not eavesdropping. 

Optimus looks startled at that, before confusion fills his optics for a nanoklik – and realization replaces it with a gasp. 

"Oh, Jazz, no! No, that's not what I meant, I—When I said I knew what you were capable of I meant this," he explains after his initial stammering, as he gestures to the tangled-up robot, dirtied but undamaged. "I meant that I knew you were able to capture Nightbird, I was _sure_ you could find a way to do it without cutting her motor wiring or using any other damaging disabling techniques, inconsequential as they could be. She is, after all, a prototype, a delicate piece of machinery that could very well become permanently useless if we tried to subdue it without knowing all about it. Jazz, I never meant to imply… I'm so, _so_ sorry." 

For almost a full klik, the saboteur can only stare, dumbfounded and at a loss of words, into his leader's pained, apologetic, and utterly unable to hold a lie baby blue optics. 

"But—You said you know how I work, and that if I couldn't think of a way to get Nightbird without damage—" 

Optimus sighs sadly, and Jazz's voice box refuses to keep working. 

"I meant for you to stay as support. I thought you were talking about deactivating Nightbird when you said you would 'take care' of her. You've been… I don't know, tenser? Yes, you've been tenser lately, jumpier, more… Jazz, is everything alright? Is there any way I can help?" 

And, once more, the saboteur finds himself staring into his leader's pleading and worried blue optics. 

"That… was a Pit of a misunderstanding," he mutters, rubbing the side of his helm with a groan. "Look, let's just go back to the _Ark_ and get this whole thing dealt with before anything else, alright?" 

"Very well. But Jazz, know I'm really sorry about—" 

"Don't. Just… don't. It was a misunderstanding, and we both were at fault there. Let's just—" 

A shot and a yelp, and both officers turn to see the robot being dropped back to the ground as the other Autobots reach for their weapons. Cliffjumper is on the ground, sitting up, he world energy chip lying on the dirt in front of him, and a blackened mark on his chest plates. 

And, up on top of the canyon, Megatron, surrounded by Thundercracker, Skywarp, Bombshell, and Soundwave, snarls down at them. 

"Keep your servos off my property, Auto-klutz."


	6. Jogai

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Jogai:_ 'Abatement' in Japanese.

As soon as they receive the message that their comrades have recovered the Nightbird after successfully fending off the Decepticons, Prowl calmly makes his way outside, absentmindedly scratching the seams where the temporary bumper plating meets the rest of the armor. 

He _really_ can't wait to get rid of this paper-thin tin-like contraption. But, thanks to a certain human-made and Decepticon-programmed drone, that will have to wait. After all, the _Ark_ doesn't have power and there are still other mechs that Ratchet needs to check before something as _menial_ as replacing his broken armor can be done. 

It means Prowl is more than a little cranky. 

And the pending conversation with Prime and Jazz doesn't exactly cheer him up. 

Fortunately, the saboteur sent him a message soon after the one telling of their victory that managed to ease his processor a bit. 

Just a bit. 

Because a misunderstanding of the likes of their leader accusing their Third of being a spark-extinguishing tool doesn't come out of nowhere. 

_Slag it all, I thought Jazz was dealing with things better than this!_

Well, nothing to be done now. At least, not until they return the Nightbird to the humans and deal with _that_ issue. 

Luckily, that's something far easier to take care of. Or, at least, Prowl is better prepared to tackle that. 

Thanks to the data Blaster managed to put together before the sabotaging, he has all the proof he needs to present to Prime and end the robot soldier programs. 

Now, they just need the world energy chip back, and he can get to it as soon as Ratchet makes sure his leader isn't going to fall into stasis without medical attention. 

As if his very thought had summoned them, Prowl finally spots the approaching cloud of dust signaling their comrades' return. 

Five kliks later, the Repair Bay is finally emptying, the machinery and lights working once more with the stolen chip back in its place, while Blaster and Red Alert get to increasing the security measures to avoid a repeat. 

After a thorough exam, Optimus is allowed to get back to his pedes while Ratchet turns his attention to the deactivated robot lying on another berth. 

"Prime, there's something I'd like you to see," Prowl calls, getting his leader's attention before it's turned back to the drone. 

"Can it wait a bit? I'd like to make sure Nightbird isn't too badly damaged. The sooner we return her to Doctor Fujiyama, the sooner we can put all this behind us." 

It is a nice and logical idea, but the Tactician would really like to have dealt with the scientists _before_ they get their robot back. 

"I'm sure Ratchet will let you know if anything—" 

"What _the Pit?!"_ the Medic exclaims, the drone's torso plate in his servos and his optics a pale blue as he examines its systems. 

Almost unconsciously, the three officers in the room take a step closer to see just what has startled Ratchet. 

Jazz lets out a low whistle. 

"I'm pretty sure it didn't have that energy converter thingy back at the conference." 

Ratchet gives him a glare that says louder than words just how much he would like to re-acquaint one of his wrenches with the saboteur's helm if his servos were free. 

"Not _that!_ It was a given the Decepticons would modify the humans' primitive design. I meant the fact that all its systems are _charred!_ What did you _do?!"_

"Ouch, Ratch. That hurt." 

"I'm afraid that was Starscream's doing," Optimus interrupts before the Medic can do more than put the piece of armor down and grab one of his trusty wrenches. "He flew down, shot Nightbird, and flew away as soon as he caught Megatron's attention. We thought his null-ray had just put her into stasis, but…" 

"Well, one way or another, I'd rather not be him when Megs catches him. The mech was _really_ pissed." 

"I assume that was another attempt at overthrowing Megatron?" Prowl asks, crossing his arms under his bumper and tilting his helm when he gets nods from the other two officers. 

"It looked like it. He wasn't at the battlefield before, even though the others that had attacked the university were," Optimus answers, a servo tapping thoughtfully against his facemask. "Maybe he had been sent away?" 

"If he'd been sent to take command of the _Victory_ with both Megatron and Soundwave away, I doubt he would have come back just to shoot at a drone," Jazz muses out loud, the Prime giving him a pointed look at that last word, but the saboteur expertly ignores him as he rests his servos on his pelvic plating with a shake of his helm. "Just give it up, Ops. There's no knowing what goes on in that Seeker's processor. Or Megatron's, for that matter." 

"Well, one way or another, he left a slagging mess behind," Ratchet grumbles, carefully poking around in the robot's torso to assess the damage. "I can take out the upgrades, see if the processor, or whatever this thing uses, has anything than hasn't been fried to check for Decepticon reprogramming to erase… but I'm not sure I can leave it as it was before all this. I can try to put it back together, but, according to the blueprints, some parts really were one of a kind," Ratchet explains, looking up to see Optimus' conflicted gaze and the officers' carefully neutral faceplates, and straightens. "What do you want me to do?" 

Prowl and Jazz turn to the Prime, as expectant as the Medic, though keeping their unease and tension as hidden as they can. 

After one look at his officers, Optimus lets his shoulders slump. 

"Save what you can, old friend. I'm sure Doctor Fujiyama will be able to work with that to replace what was lost." 

The other three mechs relax visibly at that, and, when next Prowl tries to drag their leader to the bridge, the Prime acquiesces without another word, Jazz bouncing after them humming softly to himself. 

Blaster gives the Tactician a chip without looking up from where he's tampering half into the control panel, Red Alert by his side. So, with a curious and slightly amused Prime behind him, Prowl quickly finds an unoccupied meeting room for them to talk uninterrupted. 

As the chip slowly downloads its data into the computer, the Praxian tenses slightly at the thought of what is to come. 

Yes, Optimus didn't order Ratchet to fully repair Nightbird, which would have implied adding Cybertronian technology and who knows how many modifications to have them work, and thus helping the humans better their would-be weapon. But who knows how will he react to this information and, most important, what it means and what must be done? 

Of course, Prowl wouldn't be where he is if he didn't have at least an idea. But he's still just a mech, and Optimus is a _Prime._

He's served under two of them, he knows what _that_ means. 

Especially when it comes to this one, with his conflicting views and experiences and that too warm and hopeful spark. 

So, when the information finally loads onto the screen, it is their leader Prowl observes instead of the data he already knows. 

After all, he was the one to ask Blaster to compile the information on the robot soldier programs. 

Optimus' facemask helps hide the brunt of his emotions, but his optics and field always betray him. And, while to a human the subtle changes in the shade of his blue optics would be hard to understand or even notice, when combined with the electromagnetic field seeping from all Cybertronian, they are like giant neon signs telling the world just what he's feeling for any other mech. 

So, it's easy to see when he realizes just _what_ he's looking at, and the growing dread and disbelief as he looks through the various programs of the different countries. And the raw _betrayal_ when he finds even their hosts taking part of it. 

Yet, there's still hope when he turns to his Prowl. 

"It-It's their right, right? To defend themselves?" 

"It is." 

And hope blazes—before being smothered, because, after all, Prowl's been Prime's right servo mech since the instant he took his post at the head of the Autobots, nine million years ago. 

"There's a 'but', isn't it?" 

"You tell me." 

Jazz gives him an amused yet confused look at that, far more used to the quick and to the point delivery of data, sometimes even ruthlessly. But the Praxian knows it's better to let Optimus realize things for himself when they can afford the time. 

And, since they recovered the drone and Ratchet is busy fixing it, thus making them unable to return it yet, they do have the time. 

Plus, it's always easier to convince the Prime to accept things he doesn't like when he's the one to arrive at the needed conclusion. 

Prowl's not above nudging him towards the right direction, however. 

Which is why he doesn't try to be discreet when he scratches a seam where temporary plating meets armor, trying to sooth the sensors reaching for the missing ones. 

Optimus almost visibly shrinks away at that, obviously connecting the project with the Decepticon attack that caused the damage. 

_Good._

"They didn't tell us. We're their allies, and they didn't tell us. And so, the Decepticons managed to steal a weapon designed to damage _Cybertronians_ and turned it against us, and, consequently, against humanity. And they don't have any means to defend against such an attack, so they could have gotten hurt by their own creation. If Megatron had managed to hold onto it a bit longer, modify it further… Her, I mean, not it, her!" the Prime whispers brokenly, though the last part is added hurriedly, stammering in embarrassment, which gets him a couple of amused smiles from his officers. "Since, you know, the humans bothered to give it—her! They bothered to give her a gender, so it wouldn't be polite to call her an it." 

Jazz snickers and Prowl doesn't bother hiding his chuckling as he shakes his head slowly, thoroughly amused at this almost newspark-like behavior their oh-so-powerful leader tends to get into from time to time while around his officers. 

"No worries, Ops, we won't be telling anyone about your slip," the saboteur reassures with a wink and a large grin, and the Prime huffs in annoyance, mostly to himself, before focusing back on the present. 

"Right. Well, slip aside, that was it, right? They didn't trust us, and thus endangered us all. They're not ready for this kind of weaponry. They have neither the technology nor the ability to keep it safe from Decepticon tampering. If they continue the projects, they risk Soundwave or his Cassettes slipping a virus through their firewalls and installing it in the next batch, giving Megatron more tools to use against us." 

"Precisely. That is why they have to stop." 

And, as infuriating as it was expected, Prime shakes his helm in a negative. 

"Optimus—" 

"We can't just ask them to give up their defenses. They have the right to protect themselves—" 

"They're endangering all of us with—" 

"So, we should ask them to _change."_

Halfway through his next argument, Prowl stops. 

A reboot of his optics is all his battle computer needs to run that idea through. 

"Switch the robot soldier project for another? But they're too primitive for even the drones, what else could they do?" he asks, curious about what his leader is thinking. 

"I was thinking about some better communication suits with the _Ark?_ Or some kind of emergency number open to everybody? So that we can answer to Decepticon attacks faster." 

The Second and Third exchange a look and, after a moment, Jazz nods. 

"Why not? That'll let them know we're _still_ willing to help, and that they better trust us with the Decepti-creeps instead of trying to face Megsy on their own. And that's when we return the Nightbird with the reports of the disaster at the university and just how close it was to hand the Cons the world energy chip, and let them see for themselves just how much of a bad idea the whole thing is." 

"… I'll word that better and get a draft by then, but I agree with the change," Prowl answers, receiving a pout from the saboteur and a relieved smile from their leader. "So, now that this has been taken care of, there's something else we need to deal with." 

And while Optimus looks curious and a bit confused, Jazz cringes visibly. 

"Hey, mech, I told you—" 

"You told me _nothing,"_ the Praxian hisses, immediately silencing the saboteur. "So, do it now." 

"Jazz…?" 

"Ugh, cool your systems, you two. It's nothing bad, it's just—" 

"If you say it's just some 'restlessness'…" the Tactician threatens, and Jazz tenses, turning deadly serious. 

"You _really_ are a pain in the aft. Some orns, I have to wonder why I didn't just deactivate you and spare me the trouble." 

Optimus startles, looking between his Second and Third with alarm and something akin to fear. 

"What is going on?" he finally asks, dactyls twitching as he tries not to reach for a weapon. 

"Do you know what I did before the war, Ops?" Jazz asks with his usual cheerfulness, but his faceplate is blank and his frame and field betray nothing. 

"… You served the Senate as some kind of guard," the Prime answers, though his voice tilts strangely, almost as if not sure whether he should make that a question or not. 

"Kind of, but not really. The more correct term would be a spark-extinguisher," Jazz answers, and, while Prowl doesn't look away from that deep blue visor, the color so dark it barely gives off any light, he can still clearly see the Prime tense and take an involuntary step back, away from them. "Sometimes, that is. I was a kidnapper, torturer, and thief most times, but they had no qualms telling me when they wanted some mech to disappear. And neither did I when it came to that," he explains with an expression that is only a smile in name, because the only feeling that is in it is an Energon-lust so thick and concentrated that it seems to brighten the light-less visor. "That's why I'm so good a saboteur, dear Optimus. And that's why I get… _murderous,_ you may say, when I'm inactive for too long. I wasn't created to be idle," he adds, the threatening grin vanishing as the visor lights up once more with a frown, and both Prowl and Jazz turn to the fear-frozen Prime. "I'm not ashamed of what I did, of what I _am,_ and I'm never going to apologize for any of it. But that doesn't mean I’m going to let _anyone_ think I'm a tool to be used, another gun to aim at an enemy and deactivate them with but a word." 

The silence that fills the room then is viscous, sticking to them with such strength that it almost manages to physically immobilize them. But, after a klik to process everything, Optimus shakes it off. 

Literally. 

The tingling of plating as red and blue armor fluffs out and lies back down on struts and cabling and lines echoes against the orange walls for an instant as the Prime searches for the right words. 

When he looks up at them again, he doesn't flinch nor fear anymore. 

"So that's why you've been so twitchy lately." 

This time, Jazz's smile is actually so, though a bit crooked. 

"Yeah. Don't get me wrong, Earth and the humans are awesome, but I don't think I'll ever get used to these slow times." 

"Is there something we can do to help you burn that extra energy off? It isn't like there are that many battles, and there's just so much infiltration anyone can do. Especially with the _Victory_ being…" 

The saboteur frowns once more, this time thoughtfully, and taps his chin softly with a fist. 

"You know, all I can come up with right now isn't exactly 'kid-friendly', so I'm at a blank. Any ideas, Prowler?" 

"Actually, yes," he answers, both mechs turning to him with expectation in blue optics and visor. "A change in your training schedule." 

Jazz grimaces. 

"Come on, mech, you know that does nothing! I haven't had a challenge since I first decided to take over the Special Operations unit, and that's just because the idiot in charge preferred to work _behind_ a desk. I had to practically train the mechs from nothing! After that, I sincerely think there's nothing training can do for me other than make me _twitchier."_

And that's when Prowl smiles, and the other two Autobots tense and take a step away. 

"Optimus, how much do you want to help?" he asks, seemingly ignoring Jazz’s rant. 

"As much as I can, of course," the Prime answers, rebooting his optics in confusion, while the saboteur's lower jaw falls open with a flash of pale blue in realization. 

"Because I think it's about time Jazz taught you some more advanced techniques." 

Silence. 

"Now, if you will excuse me, I have some work to do and some armor to get replaced. Have a good day." 

"Wha—Prowl wait you can't— _Prowl!"_

The door closes, muting Optimus' pleas and Jazz's cackle, and the Praxian gives himself a mental pat on the back. 

No more babysitting drones, no more trying to keep the Head of Special Operations from deactivating someone, and no more worrying himself glitched any time Prime goes up against the likes of _Megatron_ servo to servo. 

Now, if only— 

::Prowl, you better haul your aft to Repair Bay in two kliks if you want that armor of yours replaced. I'm officially going on a vacation in five.:: 

A loud smooth purring fills the corridor, but the Tactician doesn't pay attention to the startled and confused looks thrown his way as he lets his engines keep running with a satisfied smile on his faceplate. 

::I'll be there in one. Save me a spot on that vacation of yours.:: 

* * *

The brig is as gloomy as ever, but Starscream doesn't pay it any mind, processor lost in calculations and new projects that will most likely never go further than his thoughts. 

He's pretty sure his null-ray fried everything inside the drone's chassis, since that's precisely what he aimed for. But at least now he has confirmation that Soundwave doesn't like those things any more than he does, and thus will make sure Megatron doesn't get his servos on another robot again. 

His efficiency is precisely why the Cassette Carrier is where he is now, after all. 

The Air Commander shifts a bit, moving his weight away from a nasty dent in his shoulder plate that is starting to tingle uncomfortably, and, mostly out of habit, he grumbles about his idiotic leader and his uselessness. 

If it just so happens than he means it this orn… well, he has good reasons. 

However, Starscream's pretty sure whatever kind of craziness afflicted Megatron this time will be gone for good by the time he's released. The painful yet harmless dents, scratches, and fusion burns all over his frame are more than proof enough. The kind of precision to ensure that much pain and discomfort without damaging something important is, after all, a sign that Megatron is back to using his full processor instead of letting his spark-code do with him as it wishes. 

His coding may be the reason he's such a dangerous and powerful opponent, but to make use of all that the mech needs to _think._ That means Megatron needs to burn off energy or focus on something else, or both. 

The next time he hears the troops grumble about Starscream doing nothing more than complain for the sake of complaining, he's going to rip off their helms and shove them up their— 

The swish of the door opening along the pede steps entering the brig pull his processor away from that trail of thought, and the Air Commander lets out a groan before he can stop himself. 

Looks like he'll need a long flight once he's out to burn off some energy and aggressiveness of his own. 

Now, if only _Megatron_ could recognize such things too instead of forcing Starscream to keep an optic on him… 

_Not his fault he was thrust into the mines first thing after his activation, thus leaving him unable to learn the very basics of his frame type. Really, the Decepticons would be lost without me._

Which is something else he doesn't really want to think about either. So, stretching as much as possible to get rid of the kinks in his linkages and joints, Starscream gets to his pedes to see who has decided to visit him. 

Though, judging by the silence and the fact he wasn't called back to the present as soon as the newcomer stopped in front of his cell, he has only one possible candidate. 

"So, has our _mighty_ leader finally realized he can't tell the bottom of a pad from the top and sent you to fetch me?" 

No answer. Though it isn't as if he was expecting one, anyway. 

"As enjoyable as your ceaseless chatter is, I must ask you to go straight to the matter at servo. I am a busy mech, Soundwave, as you well know," he adds, the sarcasm dripping so thickly off his words that he's almost surprised there isn't a puddle forming at his pedes. 

The Cassette Carrier gives him an almost unreadable look—almost, because that slight tilt of his helm is evidence of a deadpanned stare in his unique fashion—but he _does_ reveal his purpose here as he takes out a cube of Energon and hands it between the bars. 

Starscream stares. 

"What? Is today some kind of 'be nice' day, or something?" he asks, frowning so deeply it's almost a glare. "What is the meaning of that?" 

"Hook: Orders." 

"He could have brought it himself. Or any other Constructicon. So. Why are you here?" 

The servo starts moving in a soft sway, the Energon in the cube sloshing softly around, and the Air Commander has to almost literally push back the warnings of his depleting energy gauges. 

"Starscream: Refuel. Talk: Meanwhile." 

He has to scoff at that, but he steps forward and snatches the cube from Soundwave's servos nevertheless, trying not to gulp it down too quickly. 

As soon as he puts it down, however, there's already another being offered to him, this one more purplish in color. 

"High Grade? Alright, that's it. Who are you and what have you done with Soundwave?" 

"Starscream: Inferior. Soundwave: Superior." 

The Air Commander can't help his amused snort nor his smirk at that, especially because of the deadpan, even more emotionless than usual yet tinted with annoyance, it has been spoken with. 

"And yet, here the superior Soundwave is, trying to buy a favor from me with High Grade. What, wasn't the whole ordeal with the drone enough?" he asks mockingly, though the last question is far quieter and more hissed than spoken. 

"Starscream: Destroyed drone. Humans: Cancelled projects." 

The Air Commander reboots his optics in surprise before letting out a bark of laughter and snatching the High Grade from where it was still being handed to him. 

"Of course they did! So, I guess that would make us even. What is this for then?" he wonders, sipping calmly and almost purring at the slight bitter aftertaste. "Slag, it's _good."_

"Brew: Mixmaster's." 

"I'll be sure to drop by the Repair Bay more often then. And you haven't answered my—Oh, no, wait a nanoklik!" he shouts, almost dropping the cube as it dawns on him just _what_ Soundwave may be trying to con him into. "I'm _not_ babysitting those Cassettes of yours!" 

"Acknowledged. Objective: Different," the Third in Command answers, and the Flier lets out a sigh before taking another sip of the Energon to calm his systems. "Favor: To be requested." 

"This is to ensure you'd be able to have me at your beck and call sometime in the future? Alright, I can function with that," Starscream shrugs, this time allowing his engines to let out a soft contented purr as he sits down to enjoy his new treat. "And now that we're talking about favors, make sure I'll get at least two joors free once I'm done being 'punished', will you? I'm planning to have a long well-earned flight after this." 

"Acknowledged. Payment: Take Flier Cassettes along," the Air Commander muses that for a couple of nanokliks before giving a simple nod. 

No one will be hearing this spoken out loud, but Starscream actually enjoys having the little pests around. Their eagerness to learn any and all aerial tricks he's willing to share with them is more than welcome, and Ratbat's enthusiasm and newspark-like innocence are actually quite refreshing. 

As soon as the thought is processed, the Air Commander finds himself snorting with a large smirk once more, turning his helm to look at the obviously—to those who know what to look for—curious Communications Officer still standing at the other side of the energy bars. 

"You _did_ get me to babysit your creations." 

Soundwave chuckles, the sound an almost subsonic thrum that tickles his wing sensors, but shakes his helm. 

"Negative. Skywarp: Already agreed to that." 

The Cassette Carrier turns around to leave, and, by the time he's almost at the door, Starscream finally deciphers those words. 

"He _what?!"_

With an almost silent swish, the angry curses and death threats of the very much pissed off Seeker get locked in the brig.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I completely bypassed the fighting scene because I can't sincerely see anything to change from the original (other than Nightbird being freed by a Decepticon instead of by some kind of energy-sucking gun that popped out of _nowhere)._ As for the humans, as Soundwave said, all robot soldier programs were cancelled. Whether it's because they had learnt their lesson, the Autobots offered something better or simply because they're bidding their time... well, I leave that to each of you to choose whatever you like best :D

**Author's Note:**

> It all began with one of the characters in the original _Enter the Nightbird_ episode and a really good question: "Why build a robot ninja, Doctor? Isn't that rather dangerous?"
> 
> And, thus, we get another rewrite/adaptation of a classic chapter.
> 
> Of course, there are more reasons. Like, I have this headcanon that Jazz is _really bad news,_ as in a really _really_ dangerous fella, and seeing how a human-made robot (Decepticon modified or not) kicked the Autobots' afts so easily was... well, it was plain _embarrassing._ Yes, capturing unharmed is harder than killing, but _come on._
> 
> And then, there was Optimus. Good, heroic, noble, and plain _stupid_ Optimus. I swear, I don't know how many times I wanted to slap him up the head during the episode and shout at him to _see_ what the Pit was happening in front of his very optics. Seriously, that was... I like Optimus, respect him, he's an awesome character, but _please…_ No, just... No.
> 
> So, there. Have _Enter the Nightbird_ in a new light. And feel free to give me an earful about mauling the series, 'cause it doesn't look like I'll be stopping anythime soon (I'm looking at you next, _Kremzeek)._


End file.
